


Taken to the Mines

by ZeRealPlagueDoc



Category: My Bloody Valentine (1981)
Genre: Blood, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Murder, Slight foul language, mentions of harm, mines, slight gore, slight nsfw, wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:26:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeRealPlagueDoc/pseuds/ZeRealPlagueDoc
Summary: Anon: Can I ask for a Yandere story from Harry Warden or Brahms? Where they kidnap the reader
Relationships: Harry Warden/Reader, Harry Warden/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Taken to the Mines

A party in the mines is not your cup of tea. You enjoy sitting in your home by the fire, drinking a nice cup of hot chocolate. Why were people going to a party in the mines? You have no idea. You were invited and had gone to one once, but that was a while back. At the time, you felt like you were being watched. The entire time you were there, you felt someone’s stare burning in the back of your head. Now, in the confinement of your own home, you felt at peace. Being at home with some quiet music playing in the background was calming and, in your opinion, much better than a large party full of drunk, young adults who would grind on one another to loud, deafening music. Or simply put, not your bag of worms.

Tonight was different though. Today wasn’t special, oh no. Today was cold, colder than most in February. In Valentine Bluffs, it’s always cold during this time. Today though, it felt like all the warmth from the area had been stripped away, leaving behind a cold, barren wasteland even though the town is still lush with life. So why was there a party at the mines if today wasn’t special? Well, due to the legend of Harry Warden around and the murders that took place on Valentine’s Day years ago, many of the people, or the young adults and teens, decided to have a party celebrating Valentine’s Day weeks before the actual day. Dumb, right?

You knew that that would not stop Harry Warden from killing people, well, if he even existed. Many people believed that Axel was the one who killed all those people while others believed it to be Harry Warden. There were claims from both sides, each one saying it was either Axel Palmer or Harry Warden. From what you knew, the one’s saying it was Harry Warden claimed he had escaped Eastfield’s psych ward after being there for fifteen years. Those who said it was Axel Palmer claimed that Harry Warden killed his father in front of him, leading to a mental breakdown, leading to him becoming Harry Warden. Either way, Axel was confirmed to be dead after his body was found in the mines and Harry himself was never found.

Right now, your buddies were out at the mines, enjoying their time of partying, or that’s what you believe. In reality, they were already dead with the others at the party, being dragged into the part of the mines where other previous unwanted guests are. By the time it was late, you did not receive any calls from them. No texts. Not even voicemails. It is odd, to say the least.

Your friends always call when they get done with a party. You finish the rest of your hot chocolate and leave your warm bundle of blankets. You enter the kitchen and head right for the sink. You wash out your cup and set it on the dish rack to dry. You head back into the living room and get comfortable in your bundle of blankets before reaching for your phone. You dial one of your friends, waiting for them to pick up. When they don’t, you move on to the next. When the same thing happens, you move to your last friend.

Slight fear starts to set in when they don’t pick up either. You’re about to try and call your first friend before you get a call. Looking at the Caller ID, you see that it’s the last friend you tried to call. Letting out a relieved sigh, you press the answer button and bring it up to your ear.

“Man, you gave me a scare. You and the others hadn’t called after the party and I was thinking that you either may have forgotten or something bad happened,” You say, letting out a small laugh. “Anyway, how did the party go? Did you have fun? Sorry about not going with you guys, but parting is just not my bag of worms, ya know?” You don’t hear anything on the end, so you continue to talk. “Besides, I really don’t want to go to ‘a place a bunch of teens and young adults went and got murdered by Axel or Harry, ya know?” When no reply comes, you just sigh. “Okay man, I guess I’ll talk later, you’re probably tired. If you want to crash at my place, you can. Just be quiet though. I have a shift at the local bakery I need to get to,” You say before hanging up.

You’d head to bed, but the warm fire and the warmth from the blankets are comforting. In response to not wanting to leave your cozy blankets and nice warm fire, you hunker down and let out a pleased noise as you get comfy. You let your eyes lazily slide closed and listen to the quiet music drifting around your quiet home. Slowly, you fall into a gentle sleep, unaware of the miner standing outside your living room window, watching you drift into a peaceful slumber. If you had noticed, you would have seen the miner’s grip on his pickaxe loosen just slightly.  
\--------  
You’re awoken to heavy breathing and a body behind your own. The body is very warm, almost like a heater. You keep your eyes closed, trying to figure out who it exactly is that’s behind you. Arms are wrapped tightly around your waist and chest, pinning the blankets and your arms close to your body. The body feels very muscular, and there is a faint scent of coal, dust, and cologne. The heavy breathing doesn’t stop, even when you shift slightly.  
There is something odd though. You feel something behind your back, slightly curving away from you by the waist and heading up your back, behind your head. The heavy breathing sounds muffled and the grip on you is claustrophobically tight. You shift a bit more, letting out a small pained groan leave you when it only tightens. You open your eyes and look up, only to see a gasmask look back down at you.

“Dude, what the fuck!” You exclaim breathlessly. The grip on you is so tight, you have a hard time breathing. You start the kick and squirm, but that doesn’t get you far. Your arms are still pinned to your body along with the blanket. Your legs are stuck, tangled in the many blankets you are now cursing yourself for wrapping around you earlier. From the heavy breathing and muscles, you assume the person is a man since there are very few women who work in the mines, and even then, they are not this large and muscular.  
He stands up without a word but does let out a small grunt when you throw your head back, hitting the tube and gasmask, only to receive pain from the blow. You open your mouth to let out a scream only to have gloved fingers shoved in your mouth. You bite down on them only to have the other hand grip your neck in a tight grip. The grip is tight enough to send a message to behave but not tight enough to cut off airflow.

You bring your hands up to the hand that has its fingers in your mouth. You slowly pull them out, trying to get the taste of copper, soal, and dust out of your mouth. You take in a harsh breath before wiping away any saliva that had dripped down the sides of your mouth. You feel the man start to drag you backwards, leading you towards your open front door. You kick and flail your hands about, hitting the gasmask a few times, only to receive a few squeezes on your throat and a few grunts from the man.

He must have gotten tired of your fighting because you feel a sharp pain in one of your legs. You let out a deafening scream of pain, stopping your fighting to tend and look over your wound. I pickaxe is in your leg. A pickaxe is in your leg. A. Pickaxe. Is. In. Your. Leg. It is ripped out easily by the man, and he lets you fall from him as you cry in pain and place your hands on your bleeding leg. The wound is not too bad and not deep enough to cause any permanent or fatal damage, but damn did it hurt.

You watch the man, who you just realized looks like a miner, squat down beside you and take one of your blankets. You watch as he tears it apart and wraps the torn piece around your leg like a tourniquet. After checking to make sure it is tight, he brings you close to him and lifts you up in a bridal/monster carry. He slowly walks out your door and down the street. It isn’t long before you realize you are being **Taken to the Mines**. You try to squirm, only to have the hand under your kneepit squeezed harshly. This makes pains shoot up your leg from the one with the tourniquet. You let out a small cry of pain as both you and the miner enter the dark mines, knowing that with your injury and the very dark mines, you may not be able to escape this man who kidnapped you from your home.


End file.
